Notorious Rake, Innocent Lady. Bronwyn Scott

John couldn’t manage. Tonight seemed to be a rare exception. John appeared relieved to see him, although Paine was having difficulty noticing what the trouble might be.

      ‘It’s this ’ere chit. She’s asking for you.’ John stepped aside, revealing what his girth had hidden from Paine’s approach.

      Paine’s breath caught and his member stirred violently. The girl was stunning. One look at her generous invitation of a mouth and his mind was awash with images of bedding her, of stripping her out of the turquoise silk that hugged her curves exquisitely and kissing her until she cried out for all of him. In his veins, his blood began to heat at the prospect. He was alive again.

      ‘It’s all right, John. I’ll speak with her.’ Paine clapped the big man on the shoulder. Was that relief he saw on the girl’s face? He was certain he didn’t know her. She looked far too fine to be familiar with the places he frequented. And too innocent, he amended. There were no chandeliers or crystal goblets here, but the woman beside him had the carriage and clothing of a woman who was familiar with such trappings.

      He gave her one of his rare smiles and offered his arm, drawing her inside. He felt her gloved hand tense where it lay on the sleeve of his linen shirt as she took in the surroundings and he saw the place through her eyes while they wended through the tables; the smell of stale smoke mingled with alcohol and unwashed sweat; the worn garb of the patrons, the faded upholstered chairs and scarred tables.

      Belatedly, he recalled he had left his own jacket at the table and that he wore no extra adornments as was his wont when gambling. No diamond pin twinkled in the folds of a nonexistent cravat, no gems sparkled at the cuffs of his sleeves. By ton standards he was in extreme dishabille, garbed only in a plain white shirt and tan breeches—a far cry from the expected dark evening wear.

      Paine turned down a narrow hallway and opened the first door on his left. It was a small room that served as his office of sorts for when he discussed loans or other private issues. He ushered her inside and motioned that she should sit.

      ‘Can I get you a drink? I have ratafia or sherry.’ She shook her head and Paine shrugged, fixing a brandy to give himself something to do. Once he had his glass, he took his customary place behind the plain wooden desk and studied her, waiting for her to state her business.

      Beautiful and nervous, he concluded, although she was hiding it bravely. She didn’t fidget with her pristine white-gloved hands, but held them clasped tightly in her lap. Her posture was rigid. Despite the control she held over the rest of her body, her eyes gave her away completely. Her eyes were bold, challenging orbs of jade. He’d seen the exact shade in the gem markets of Calcutta, transported from the mines of the Kashmir Vale, an exotic green polished to an emerald sheen. She wanted something.

      He could not imagine what he had to offer a stranger such as herself. But whatever she thought he had, she wanted it desperately. The challenge in her eyes said as much.

      She did not speak and Paine felt obliged to fill the lengthening silence. ‘Since we have not met, let me introduce myself. I am Paine Ramsden. However, you already know that. I feel distinctly at a disadvantage, for I have no idea who you might be.’

      ‘I am Julia Prentiss. I thank you for agreeing to see me.’ She spoke matter of factly, giving Paine the unlikely impression it might have been daylight outside and this meeting nothing more than a standard interview.

      ‘This is a rather unusual time of evening for a business appointment. I must admit I am quite curious as to why you’re here.’ Paine leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands and trying to look as if he weren’t fully aroused from the sight of her magnificent figure or the sound of her voice.

      He saw the long column of her neck work briefly as she swallowed. For the first time since she’d entered the establishment, he felt her resolve waver. When she did not speak immediately, Paine offered a lifeline. ‘Do you need money?’ Perhaps she had a gambling debt. It was not unusual for women to wager beyond their capabilities at cards at a ball or house party.

      She shook her head, causing the aquamarine earbobs to dance lightly. Too late, Paine realized his faulty reasoning. The earbobs alone could have been discreetly pawned to cover a small debt. Good lord, he’d only known her for a handful of minutes and she’d addled his wits. His manhood strained against his trousers. He hoped she’d get to the point soon so he could begin his own manoeuvres.

      ‘I need you to ruin me.’ The words came out in a rush; a light blush coloured her flawless alabaster cheeks.

      ‘Ruin?’ Paine quirked an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean by “ruin”? Shall I ruin you at the gaming tables? I can arrange to have you lose any amount of your choosing.’

      Her gaze met his evenly in all seriousness, her courage having returned in full force now that she’d begun talking. ‘I don’t wish to lose any money. I wish to lose my virginity. I want you to ruin me in bed.’

      His mind warned of danger while his member fairly exploded at the anticipated pleasure being handed to it. Dangerous pleasure—his favourite kind of diversion. ‘I am not opposed to such an arrangement, but I would know more,’ Paine said coolly.

      ‘I am to marry a man I find completely unsuitable in five days. He will not have me if I’ve been…’ She paused, casting about for a word she could utter. ‘If I’ve been touched by another.’

      Paine felt a surge of disappointment. Partnering her in this request had any number of obvious drawbacks, not the least of which was the odds of facing a duel. Danger was one thing, illegal proceedings like duels were another. Still, it needn’t end so drastically. It wasn’t as if he had a reputation to protect and the chit wasn’t looking for him to do the honourable thing afterwards.

      ‘This is a rather rash course of action, one that is irrevocable, Julia.’

      He spoke her name, liking the sound of it and the familiarity it implied. He rose and came around to the front of the desk, determined to teach her a lesson about the nature of men. He half-sat, half-stood at the corner, his arms crossed, his lower body exposed so that there was no mistaking his maleness or his arousal, which pressed unmistakably full and hard against the fall of his breeches. Let her see what such a request involved. He would give her one chance to back out.

      ‘Have you thought this through? Is there no chance of resigning yourself to the marriage? Perhaps you will come to rub along quite well with your betrothed in a year or two. Many women find once they marry, have a home and a family to look after, that all else settles itself with time.’ Good lord, he sounded like a finishing-school marm.

      Fire lit her eyes and she replied, ‘I am not a silly chit rebelling against her parents’ choice for a husband because I fancy myself infatuated with another. I assure you, I have no desire to “rub along well” with this man. Mortimer Oswalt is a lecher of the worst sort and I refuse to be reduced to nothing more than his legal brood mare! Even if it means I shall not stand a chance of ever marrying.’

      Paine felt his heated blood chill at the name. Mortimer Oswalt was well known to him. There was old animosity between them and a vengeance to be repaid over a woman. It would be fitting to ruin the man’s betrothed. He was no longer a stripling. This time, Mortimer Oswalt would not be able to manipulate him so easily. This time, an innocent would escape Oswalt’s clutches.

      He studied the girl before him. Bedding her would be no act of charity. She was a divine beauty and his body clearly wanted her. She was more than beautiful, though. He wasn’t so fickle as to be aroused by appearance alone. Julia Prentiss had spirit and courage. Not every girl in England had the power to rebel against a chosen match and to take action on her own. Such passion boded well for what they could share in the bedroom. First, he would ascertain with actions the willingness she professed with her words.

      ‘Stand up, Julia, so that I may see what I am getting myself into.’ He held her eyes, noting that her gaze did not flinch from his scrutiny.

      She rose, her skirts brushing his legs. The lemon scent of her soap filled his nostrils, conjuring up images of sunlit days in faraway places where trees grew